


To the Victor

by fencer_x



Category: Free!
Genre: Bets & Wagers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 15:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13437597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: Friendly competition in the pool leads to even friendlier competition outside of it. Haru and Rin have a running bet that whoever wins in their races gets to decide how bedroom activities go that evening.





	To the Victor

Haru hadn't spoken to him since they left the pool.

Granted, this was hardly a new development; the guy was being chatty if he strung more than five words together in a day. But tonight, Rin suspected there was a deeper meaning behind his reticence: namely, Haru was _pissed_. Not _I just lost a race I've been training for for weeks_ pissed, not _the pool's being drained and renovated for the next fortnight_ pissed, but _I wasn't in the mood for this tonight_ pissed. Irritated, disappointed—that kind of pissed. 

Though really, the guy only had himself to blame, Rin reasoned, so he couldn't muster up too much sympathy. There lay an unspoken rule between them that they would never take it easy on one another; feeling under the weather? Call in sick. Pulled a muscle? The physical trainer's number was taped to their fridge. But if they suited up and got in the pool—they were understood to be up for just about anything, and what was a bit of friendly competition between whatever the hell they were calling themselves this week?

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to show a little enthusiasm, _Haru-chan_ ," Rin teased dryly, pulling at the elastic hem of Haru's pants just enough to send it snapping back sharply—and when this failed to arouse the usual biting retort of _don't call me -chan_ , he snorted in irritation, "Or you could lie there like a dead fish, kind of like you're doing now."

The response he earned was equally lifeless: "Just hurry and get started; I want to soak after we're done."

Rin's fingers froze just at the hem of Haru's wifebeater, where he'd been about to tug it off in one clean stroke before moving on to stripping off the yoga pants that had been slipped on in a hurry as Rin practically dragged him out of the natatorium. With a disdainful curl of his lip, he snapped—finally fed up with the shitty attitude he was getting. "Oh give me a fucking break. If you wanted more say in what we do tonight, then _maybe_ you should’ve bent your knees more on that last turn like I told you _yesterday_." And now, he _did_ whip off the undershirt, ruffling Haru's hair and leaving him sputtering his rage. "Or, you know—you could've just _not accepted the challenge at all_."

As if that had ever been an option, though; not when they were both _up for it_. There were days—too many, if you asked Rin—where Haru just wasn't in the mood, wouldn't return heated stares or field Rin's suggestive commentary, clearly just wanted to get in the pool and do whatever it was he did—commune with the water or some shit like that. Rin didn't like those days, but there were other ways to get Haru's attention than just grabbing his dick, and Rin could appreciate a good challenge, enjoyed the occasional wave rocking the boat of an otherwise mutually gratifying relationship. 

But today hadn't been one of those days; today had been one of the days where Haru's fingers had brushed light—almost innocently, but most definitely _purposefully_ over his shoulder as he'd passed through the locker room to rinse before hitting the pool. And sure, that might have seemed like nothing to the casual onlooker, but for Haru it was waving a flag that said _I want to fuck_ , because the guy didn't make offers, didn't seduce—things just _happened_ with him, like a natural flow. Sometimes it was finding a forehead resting against his nape when he roused at 3 in the morning to fingers teasing at the band of his boxer-briefs, sometimes it was the teasing peek of underwear showing when Haru reached for an item just out of his reach that said he wasn't planning on swimming that day. And sometimes, like today, it was the brush of rough-padded fingers over the knob of his shoulder to trail down his bicep in passing.

Haru just glanced away, feigning interest in the thin curtains swaying softly in the light breeze spilling from the air conditioner whirring away above them on the wall. He was doing _that thing_ where he pretended to ignore the immediate problem in the hopes that whoever was the source of it would eventually grow frustrated and give up. Unfortunately for him—Rin was just as stubborn. And he'd _earned this_ , dammit.

He braced his hands on either side of Haru's chest and leaned down until their noses were nearly touching, brow furrowed in irritation. "I kicked your ass."

"It was two-tenths of a second."

"Still an ass-kicking. Still _my win_."

The corner of Haru's eye twitched—the only sign the reminder still stung a bit. "…I want to take a bath."

"Good," Rin agreed easily, then leaned back and crossed his arms over to grab the hem of his shirt and jerk it up and over his head, leaving it to fall by the wayside and running fingers through his hair to push the strands from his face. "You'll need one when I'm done with you."

He didn't miss the telltale widening of Haru's eyes—so slight he could've missed it if he'd blinked, but he hadn't, and so he'd blessedly caught it. He could be a pissy little grump when he didn't get his way—even if it was his own fault—but he still reacted like any guy with a libido (even one as low-key as Haru) would at the suggestion of getting off in the very near future—giving _or_ taking.

The blank gaze slid to the side, just far enough to finally catch Rin in the periphery, and he grinned in triumph. "You can soak to your heart's content when we're done."

"I want to soak _now_."

"Too bad I don't give a fuck what you want," he snapped, a bit more harshly than intended—but Haru was starting to push his buttons, and this was supposed to be _fun_ —but it wouldn't be, if Haru wasn't _into it_. Still, the guy had made his own bed, and now they were going to screw in it, whether he liked it or not.

Rin huffed to himself in irritation, rolling his eyes, and just supposed he'd have to make sure, like he always did, that Haru came out the other side of whatever Rin practically forced him into a happy, sated man.

Lifting one leg, he rolled easily off of Haru and onto his feet, wobbling unsteadily on half-asleep legs before hobbling over to the nightstand and drawing out the necessities, unceremoniously tossing them onto the bed behind him and smiling with no small amount of satisfaction at the hissed _watch it_ of pain. He quickly shimmied out of his own pants, leaving his briefs on for the big reveal, and waved a hand in silent command for Haru to do similar. After some balking, Haru finally made motions of compliance, and Rin hopped back into position—and frowned at what he saw unveiled as the yoga pants and fresh underwear slipped on after practice earlier had finally been stripped away.

"…Seriously? Not even a _little_ hard?" That had been an ill-advised comment, apparently, as Haru flushed with shame and rolled over onto his side—and then his stomach. "Oi—what're you doing?"

"It's better this way. Now hurry up."

"The hell it is—I want to see your face, roll back—" But Haru just stiffened and held his position when Rin reached for him. " _Dammit_ —always have to be so damn _difficult_."

"Two-tenths of a second doesn't mean I have to cooperate."

"Then what the hell _does_ it mean?" he bit out, ire (and tone) rising—and _this_ was why half the time they were lucky to let their heads hit the pillow in the same room. Dating someone who could piss him off like no other probably hadn't been his most _brilliant_ idea. With an irritated growl low in his throat, he crawled over and straddled Haru, leaning down until he was level with his ear. "If you're gonna pout just because you were horny and got a little too cocky in the pool, then that's on you—but I'm not sleeping with someone who isn't into it. So either pull your head out of your ass or put your clothes back on."

Haru's gaze narrowed, and he shifted onto his side, glaring up at Rin. "…I wasn't cocky. And I wasn't…horny."

"Bullshit. You were gagging for me." He braced a hand against the upturned shoulder now and used it to force Haru onto his back again—then gave a roll of his hips that drew a strained gasp on both their parts, the faint brush of fabric over heated flesh a familiar and tantalizing sensation. "Two-tenths of a second, Nanase. That's the toll your dick took on you today."

Haru made a face—though whether from the crude language or the reminder, it was hard to say. "Is that your way of saying you weren't affected at all, then?"

Rin shrugged easily. "…Nah. But you get distracted when you're horny; I get focused—mostly because I want to hurry and get out of the pool and get my hand down your suit." He dipped low again and cocked his head just so his lips were brushing Haru's on every other syllable. "Two-tenths of a second; that's how much _more_ I wanted you than you wanted me." His grin widened. "I should be the one bitching and whining here; I'm _pained_."

Haru pressed himself back into the mattress, trying to bring Rin's face into focus, and furrowed his brows. "…You really think that?"

"Sure—unless you've got a better excuse for why I, I repeat, _kicked your ass_?" Sheer pride would never let the guy admit aloud that Rin had had the upper hand in any given race, but it was always fun to tease.

"That's not what I—" Haru started, then cut himself off, lips pursing in frustration as he tried to piece together whatever strained argument he was going to make this time. "…I did. Want you, I mean." And then his gaze was jutting off to the side again, a muttered, "…Sorry," falling from his lips in irritated shame.

Rin settled back again, spine stiff and straight as he stared down. "…For what?"

"For…behaving like a child."

"You're always an asshole; I'm used to it. It's part of your dazzling charm."

Haru cut him a glare, reaching up to brace his hands along Rin's forearms—grip light but sure. "I just…I wanted to…" He groped for words, nothing new, before being his usual direct self and muttering, "…I wanted you."

Rin felt his shoulders slump in relief. It was like pulling teeth with this guy, sometimes. "…Yeah, I know."

Haru's grip tightened, thumb and forefinger forming a tight clamp around the delicate bones of the wrist. "No, I…I mean, I _wanted_ —"

"I said I _know_ , idiot." He was done beating around the bush; the usual post-practice languor was pulling at him now, draining him of the urge to fight—all he really wanted was an orgasm he wouldn't have to work too hard for that would help him make an early evening of it. He tutted under his breath and brought one hand up, darting his tongue out to lick the palm before reaching down to gently grip Haru's still-mostly-limp cock, giving a few tentative promising squeezes for attention—which he promptly got in the form of a startled little choked gasp. He gentled the hips that tried to buck up into his grip with a commanding, "Easy there—not like you've never had someone's hand on your dick before. Calm down."

"Don't…have to do…"

Rin snorted, adding an eye roll because he could. "'Course I do. How the hell do you expect me to ride a soft dick?" The shaft was warm and full in his grip, and he slowly massaged it as it filled and hardened. "Pretty sure neither one of us would enjoy _that_."

He shifted to the side to reach for the oil and foil packet he'd retrieved earlier, and bracing the packet gently between his teeth, he used his free hand to rip it open, pulling out the condom and flipping it deftly around his fingers a few times before sliding it down and over Haru's tip, a few extra strokes ensuring a snug fit. 

Haru was up on his elbows now, knees splayed and confusion clear on his features as he struggled to grasp the shift in tempo, one step behind Rin as he went about their preparations. "I don't…but…you won?"

Rin raked him over once with a calculating gaze. "Right, _I won_. So it's my call—" He toppled forward, sending Haru back down flat onto his back, with one arm braced beside Haru's head while the other helped him slip off the briefs he still wore. "—and I want you to fuck me." Haru said nothing—just let his eyes flare wide, which spoke volumes, and Rin was getting _quite_ good at reading him in situations like this, he noted proudly. "What—you thought just cause I won it meant I got to do you?" He ducked his head down and breathed in deep—he could still faintly smell the pool on Haru from the quick shower they'd taken after practice. The guy preferred his long evening soaks for proper washing, so he always carried with him that aseptic chlorinated scent until he locked himself away in the washroom after dinner. "Winning means I get to gloat, idiot. Fucking means we do what we want—and you're hot when you know what you want." He pulled back again and shifted his weight until he flopped onto his back, bouncing a bit as he settled in. "Now get to work."

Haru lifted up to balance on one elbow and cocked his head in curious confusion, still having obvious difficulty coming to grips with the change in plans. "…Work?"

Rin propped one arm behind his head and used the other to tease himself, fingers playing at the hood of his cock as he attempted to steady his breathing. "I just kicked this loser's ass and I'm exhausted." He waved a hand dismissively. "I trust you can take care of things down there?" He was tired of going the gentle, coaxing route, and while Haru's confusion could be endearing (as much as frustrating at times), right now Rin _really_ wanted the Haru that saw his goal and went for it, and woe betide all who dared get in his way.

He wanted the Haru that had brushed fingers over his shoulder in the locker room, that had given his all in the race but had maybe been a little distracted, hadn't bent his knees enough on the last turn to give him the power he'd need to make up those two-tenths of a second—all because he'd let himself _want_ , and that had opened up a chink in his armor.

Vulnerability was dead sexy—and Rin wanted to prove it. 

Haru shifted to his knees with all the grace he showed in his dives, sliding lithely over the mattress to settle between Rin's legs as he braced his hands on either knee and eased them apart, fingers trailing down the inner thigh and back up again. His cock, still sheathed and waiting, was at decidedly stiffer attention now, and Rin bit back a grin; he'd done that. As ever, Haru always came around on whatever venture Rin tried to coax him into. 

Maybe one of these days he'd earn the guy's _trust_ on that point.

Haru made quick, methodical work of the remaining preparations, either too focused to give much care to how gentle he was or simply ignoring Rin's strained grunts as Haru slathered oil over the both of them. He let his head fall back against the pillow beneath him, eyes closed and ears tuned to the soft sounds of sheets rustling, a cap clicking, the squelching slide of fingers, all to the steady background echo of Haru's breathing, growing anticipation obvious in each exhalation—like mountingly frantic breaths as the wall approached.

Haru brushed deep, fingers of his free hand digging into the meat of Rin's thigh, and he arched his back, pushing his hips down, closer, deeper, and cursing sharply to himself as his lids fluttered open and the world flashed in purples and greens. "Shi— _fuck_ , what the hell are you waiting for?" He forced a toothy grin for show. "Wanna get Makoto on the line, see if he can read my mind?"

His response was a mute, downturned gaze as Haru lined himself up, executing a few shallow passes to establish a rhythm he'd be comfortable maintaining, and Rin tried to force himself to consciously relax, longing to skip the nasty, uncomfortable bits and just dive right into the home stretch, those last few thrilling meters where everything reduced down to breath and heat and exertion and racing Haru to a brilliant, breathtaking finish.

"Haru…" he whined—half because he knew what the tone, the threat of him _crying_ did to Haru, and half because _fuck_ he really wanted this now, wanted _Haru_ , and the guy was stalling for no good reason. He'd wanted this since practice, wanted this the whole hundred-meter race, wanted it through dinner, wanted it through Haru's weekly chat with his mother to remind her that yes he was eating something besides mackerel and no he wouldn't be able to make it home for Golden Week because there was a meet coming up that scouts for the National Team would be attending. _Fuck_ , he'd wanted this—wanted Haru _wanting him_ , for forever, because sometimes it felt like the guy was still just going along with the flow, floating wherever Rin pointed him, and it was nice to be reminded now and then that just because Haru sucked at showing it didn't mean Rin didn't make his blood run as hot as Haru did his, for better or worse.

Haru ducked a short nod, hardening his jawline as he focused on easing himself in, fighting the urge to shove in all at once—even though Rin probably would've appreciated it on levels he'd be ashamed to admit he had in the light of day—and Rin repeated the Samezuka alma mater to himself until he felt that dull, pressing fullness finally settle. Haru shifted between his legs, leaning forward and stretching up until their noses brushed, and dropped his jaw just enough to coax Rin into lifting into a kiss—and a warm thrumming filled Rin's chest that Haru remembered how much he _loved_ kissing while they fucked. Romantic it might have been, but Rin had never denied it.

The thrusts came slow—but not shallow at least, and Haru took his time in building up a tempo, as lazy with his rhythm now as he was in the water, soaking in the pleasure and letting everything build up at its own pace instead of frantically forcing arousal into orgasm. Rin let him set the tempo, crooking his ankles around the small of his back and flexing with each thrust to force Haru deeper, like a rider urging on his mount for just that little bit _more_ , and at length, he was rewarded with response.

Haru's tongue dipped deep on each thrust, no longer tasting or teasing but acting on mere instinct to force them that much closer, and Rin drew his arms up and around, fingers brushing tentatively over the knobs of his shoulders first before sliding broad palms over the heaving back. He no longer bit back the little bursts of sound—breathy voiced gasps and keening whines that chipped away at Haru's restraint a bit more on each pass, like waves against a stone wall, until he was finally unloading all of the aggression and irritation Rin stoked in him.

Gone were the soft rustling of sheets and bated breathing, replaced now by the punishing slap of skin coming together and stilted grunts and choked curses. Rin held fast, limbs tangled and twined with Haru's, and his body jolted with every pass from the intensity of everything—the stretching, the sliding, the punching and pressing as Haru poured himself into Rin, practically merging as one in physical symphony. 

Haru's hands slid down to support his ass, tugging him up just _so_ and suddenly everything took on a new shade of pleasure as Rin arched up, brushing their chests together and muffling Haru's name between their lips, alternating kisses with _fuck do that again_ and _close…close…_ and who gave a shit at this point if they came together or if Haru was still another thirty seconds, five minutes away—Rin's orgasm was _there_ , like he could just reach out and _take it_ , just needed a few more passes, that tightness followed by emptiness and tight again that made it feel like there was a coil being tightened just behind his balls. Like dipping his finger under the rubber band of his goggles and pulling back, back, back—

" _Ha—ah!_ " His high, strangled groan announced his climax, and his thighs clamped tight around Haru's hips as his body juddered and writhed, hands snapping up to grip Haru by the jaw and pull him into a deep, searing kiss. Haru grunted his irritation at having his focus interrupted, but he neither slowed nor tempered his thrusts, returning the kiss with each roll of his hips driving Rin further over an already raw edge. 

"Too much—too…" Rin warned, fingers threading through Haru's hair and then down his neck, bracing against his chest to give breathing room. But Haru's focused was honed to a fine point, a pinhole of light that was growing bigger and brighter the nearer he got, and Rin's legs clamped at his sides finally saw their mount up and over the post, brushing the wall in a spurt of victory that came with sharp huffs of release, Haru's hips jolting unevenly against Rin's as he spilled himself. His breath came in vocal grunts, just at Rin's ear, raw and animalistic in his need to announce the effort he'd just expended, and Rin's fingers gripped at the base of his neck, drawing him in close and trailing open-mouthed kisses along the jawline, up and over the lips, then under his chin, laving the blade of his tongue against the sensitive skin to lap up the sheen of sweat. " _Shit_ , Haru…" he managed at length—only pausing for a few moments to collect himself before chuckling softly, deep in his chest.

Haru stirred with mild irritation, his arms about to give away, and frowned through the shock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. "…What?"

Rin traced the lines of his chest with light fingers, drawing goosebumps—he still needed more muscle. Haru hated the gym, but they clearly needed to work on getting him there more. Those two-tenths of a second made more sense now. He tilted his head forward to bury his nose in the crook of Haru's neck and breathed again—no more chlorine, just sweat and sex and warmth. "Nothing," he mused distantly. "Just thinkin' how you still came second."


End file.
